The clocks went back this past Sunday, and all anyone can talk about is how dark it’s become. It is dark, and it will take some adjusting. After all, it’s that season again – the one Hemingway said made you sad without knowing why.

At the Sunday market a quiet elderly man sold us vegan Scotch eggs in the rain, the autumn rain that makes everything gleam, and some had beets at their centres, others tofu – we couldn’t say which we’d chosen. Later The Girlfriend, finally, which didn’t live up to the hype, though something pulled us through to the ending, that overwrought ending we didn’t care for at all. The book’s ending was better, they say. More satisfying.

P has been down with the flu for the past few days, and it’s been three weeks today since we moved into our new place – three weeks! – this neighbourhood we love already, where we’ve claimed (how quickly we claim things) our favourite seat by the fire in the pub, our pub now. Where the flames shift and the dark presses against the windows and we are, for the moment, inside.

Below, we’ve gathered a few recent letters that have made their way to subscribers over recent weeks.

1

It’s been nearly a year since my last gift guide – twelve quiet months of seasons folding into one another until, almost suddenly, the holidays return. I hadn’t planned to make another quite so soon, but inspiration – like light through a foggy window – arrives on its own terms.

This one began as a simple list for myself: things I loved, things I might give, small tokens that felt like thoughtfulness made tangible. Perfume for memory. Cashmere for warmth. A candle for the hush of late evening. Each piece, in its own way, a reminder that beauty, when chosen with care, can feel like love made visible.

Each thing, a way of saying: I thought of you.

2

This edition of Listening, Reading, Thinking, Shopping, Watching includes a reckoning with our digital lives and the fragments we keep – a deep exploration into the paradox of saving and losing ourselves in the clutter of ideas, memories, and aspirations. We explore how a new home becomes a shared canvas for evolving tastes, discover a healing farm retreat in southwest France, and linger at a London pub that steadily carries the weight of community through change. There’s a sharp look at the shifting cultural landscape – from AI’s fragility and higher education’s reckoning to fashion’s tussle with technology and identity. Plus, a curated selection of autumnal shopping finds and beautiful spaces to inspire your own journey of refinement and rediscovery.

3

We write to make sense of things – sometimes before they make sense, often after. Hyperreality is a record of that process: fragments, essays, letters from the edge of the real. It’s less a destination than a lens. You’re invited to look through it with us.

If you’d like to get familiar with Hyperreality, here are some of our best and most-read letters…

4

This edition (free for all subscribers) includes reflections on how AI is subtly shaping our voices, thoughts on Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest film as a mirror for political spectacle, a glimpse into the slow art of merging two design sensibilities, and what it means to stay human in an algorithmic age. Also included: a curated roundup of thought-provoking reads on attention, control, and creativity in an age of distraction.

5

It’s been just over four months since the last Life Update – if you’re a regular reader, you’ll recall that it was written from a hospital bed. Thankfully, things have improved greatly. This edition comes to you from our new, sun-filled flat, complete with floor-to-ceiling windows. From the living room, we can see the hills and watch the leaves change colour. It’s a dream.

6

This edition of Recent Intelligence includes a startling rise in colon cancer among young people (and the likely culprit), Jane Goodall’s quiet influence on a generation of girls, and why liminal spaces may be your brain’s secret superpower. Plus: pink onyx sinks, the fall of the corporate job, AI-powered marriage meltdowns, and a very chic perfume discovered by accident in Manchester.

It started with a single fireplace – that sculptural, otherworldly hearth in Elsa Peretti’s Porto Ercole home. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Over the years, I collected images of her homes like secrets: saved, unsorted, scattered across my desktop.

A few weeks ago, I finally began the obsessive work of piecing it all together – tracking provenance, mapping geography, tracing not just interiors but a life.

What I found wasn’t just beautiful. It was intimate, rare. A portrait of how she lived, and maybe, how she wanted to be remembered.

The full piece is on Substack. Some of these images you may have never seen before.

This edition of Recent Intelligence: culture, ideas, and obsessions to elevate your week includes a limestone townhouse on the market in one of England’s prettiest villages and another for rent in beautiful Holland Park; my top five favourite Robert Redford films (and I’ve seen many); a dissection of AI’s spectacular unravelling as Silicon Valley’s most intoxicating promise crumbles; and so much more.

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